


Coming Clean

by Giglet



Category: White Collar
Genre: Banter, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giglet/pseuds/Giglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The FBI has a very attractive incentive plan for consultants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **resonant** for the beta.
> 
> "When I'm good I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better." Attributed to Mae West.

The excitement was over, the bomb had exploded without hurting anyone, the bomber was arrested, and now all that was left was cleanup. In this case, literally, Peter thought: a lot of very messy, very smelly cleanup. Starting with Caffrey.

"Peter!" Two very blue eyes looked out from the mask of unidentifiable muck splashed up from the bottom of the Hudson River. Neal was a mess, and Peter was willing to bet that no dry cleaner in the City could salvage that suit. "Tell me that there's an FBI procedure for dealing with exposure to potentially toxic and definitely biohazardous materials?"

There was, actually, but... "What would you usually do in a situation like this?" Peter asked. Some of the mud had also hit him, but at least he'd been facing away from the river when the explosive blew up in the mud flat.

"There are no situations like this," Neal said. He wiped around his eyes and nose and mouth with a handkerchief. "And I can't do what I'd usually do in vaguely similar situations because I'm surrounded by officers of the law." The square of cloth was sopping and muddy. Neal dropped it on the ground.

"That's littering," Peter said. When Neal didn't move to pick it up, Peter added grumpily, "and you are surrounded by officers of the law."

Neal picked it up, griping, "oh, right, I'll come out with my hands up. I'll wave a white flag -- oh, wait, I _can't_ because it's not _white_ anymore -- "

Peter relented, "Procedure is to strip down and put your clothes in a trash bag. Cover the car seat with another trash bag and head for the closest available shower. In this case, that'd be my house. Come on, I think I may even have a blanket in the trunk that you can wear."

Unlike Neal, Peter only took off his jacket for the ride home. He didn't turn on the heater in the car, saying, "I know it's cold, but the heat will just make the smell worse."

During the car ride, Neal lamented the demise of his hat. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a good hat these days? Even here? I'll never find another one like it."

"What do you want me to do, Neal? I can't kiss it and make it better."

"You could kiss me and make _me_ better." It was typical Neal flirting, the sort that Peter didn't usually respond to.

But this time, he said, "if that's all it took to make you better, I'd have kissed you months ago. Maybe years ago."

And once they were inside the house (with Satchmo sniffing excitedly), Neal said, "years ago? Before prison?"

Peter toed off his shoes and put them outside the door as he considered his options. "I never wanted you to go to jail, Neal. But catching you was the only way I could stop you."

Neal was watching him the way Neal often watched him: his patient blue eyes were intent, as though Peter were a particularly challenging puzzle or as though Peter were a painting that Neal wanted to forge.

Just inside the front door, Peter unbuckled his shoulder holster and shrugged out of it, and put it with his badge. Feeling lighter now that he wasn't wearing his FBI identity, he said, "I thought about it." He didn't look at Neal as he undid his tie and shirt, pulled his undershirt over his head. "I thought about kissing you, back then."

He is intensely aware of Neal, standing two feet away, to his right. Aware of the way his breathing had sped up. Neal was just far enough to avoid getting whacked by an errant elbow, but still within arm's reach. He was closer than anyone but Elizabeth usually stood. Peter had gotten used to him being there.

Peter still didn't look at him, as he unbuckled his belt. Instead, Peter watched Neal's tracker. It steadied him.

Neal said, "I would have kissed you back."

"It would have been a disaster," Peter said.

"Catastrophic."

Peter said, "I meant for me. Professionally."

"Yeah, no," Neal agreed, sort of. "For me, too."

Finally, Peter was stripped to his boxers. He looked at Neal. "Good thing we didn't do anything, then."

"Oh, I don't know," Neal said quietly. "It turned out disastrous for me anyway. At least I would have gotten some kisses out of it."

And Peter couldn't argue with that. He sighed and started up the stairs. "Come on, I'll let you have the first shower, if you're quick."

When he turned on the bathroom light, though, Neal was right behind him, so close that their goosepimples touched, which just made Peter's skin prickle more, although not from the cold.

Neal said, "we could share."

Peter paused. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about it, but he never expected -- he inhaled deeply and immediately regretted it as eau-de-Hudson settled into his lungs.

"Besides," Neal said, "I _am_ better now, working for the FBI and repaying my debt to society. So you owe me a kiss."

Peter nodded, insides warming. "If that's what you want."

"I want. I've wanted for years."

Peter joined him in the bathroom and started up the shower. He smirked and said, "so it would have worked? Kissing you better?"

"I am susceptible to bribery," Neal admitted. "And a pretty face."

Peter huffs silently at his face being considered "pretty" by anyone, but especially by Neal. "So I could have headed off your life of crime with a few well-timed smooches," Peter teased.

"Don't kid yourself, Peter," Neal said, facing away to drop the blanket, slide out of his underpants, and slip into the shower, naked except for the anklet. "they would have had to be exceptionally impressive kisses."

Peter shucked his boxers and brushed his teeth, used mouthwash. He'd closed the case, he was about to kiss -- and probably have sex with -- a man he'd been obsessed with for years, and he was about to get _clean_ and thoroughly warm. He felt like he could afford to be a little magnanimous. "That's fair," he said. "It was an exceptionally impressive life of crime."

"Thank you, I liked to think so."

Peter stepped in to the tub. Neal was scrubbing his hair, face tilted towards the ceiling and eyes shut. He was beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful from his sudsy hair to his elegantly narrow feet, including his well-defined abs and half-erect cock.

Peter stepped forward, put one hand on Neal's hip to let him know where Peter was, then slipped the other around behind him, up into Neal's hair to position his head, and kissed him like an invading army, hard and fast and not waiting for even a millisecond before plunging his tongue into Neal's mouth.

Neal startled, then seemed to relax into it, so Peter distracted him with the hand in his hip sliding down and around, caressing his ass, sliding a finger down the crevice between his cheeks, before wrenching Neal's attention back to his mouth, back to Peter nipping and stroking and tasting and overwhelming him with sensation.

When he finally pulled away, Neal's back was against the tiles, eyes closed, flushed and panting for breath and fully erect. Peter was half holding him up. Neal opened his eyes dreamily, pupils dilated, then stiffened his knees, taking his weight back. Peter ran a tender thumb back and forth along the edge of Neal's swollen red lower lip. After a moment, Neal's tongue followed his finger. After another moment, he regained his voice. "Okay, yes. Impressive."

"Exceptionally impressive?"

"I... may need more data points for that."

Peter huffed again. "Yeah, good luck."

"What," Neal said -- even naked, turned on, wet under the showerspray, he was willing to argue, "you offer me a taste of paradise and then you plan to cruelly withhold the rest of the meal?"

"That depends on you," Peter said. "That was for your past behavior. I'm willing to offer enticements for future law-abiding behavior."

"Bribes, Agent Burke?"

"Incentives, Mr. Caffrey. The FBI has a very attractive incentive plan for consultants."

"I'm pretty sure that HR doesn't know about this one."

"You're a smart guy."

"That's why you love me." Neal said it flippantly, expecting Peter to reply with a zinger. But Peter just smiled and tilted his face down. Like he was agreeing, maybe, but wouldn't say it out loud. Neal picked up the banter again before the silence could get awkward, "so this incentive plan: Would it extend to hand-jobs?"

"Mutual hand-jobs with the nearest agent who is both willing and available."

"You're pretty near, and apparently available," Neal said, using his eyelashes to full effect as he glanced down at Peter's crotch, "and Little Agent Burke appears to be willing."

Peter burst out laughing. "Did you just -- you _did_ just call my dick 'Little Agent Burke'!"

"Well you were the one who described yourself as an incentive plan."

But Peter wasn't listening. He chuckled. " 'Little Agent Burke.' Wait until El hears that."

"Elizabeth." Neal straightened up, his voice rising. "Should I take back the 'available' comment?"

"Don't worry about it."

"I don't want to hurt her."

Peter kissed Neal again, slowly, softly. Not a kiss to incite, but a kiss to calm him. "I know. She knows. That's why this is okay with her."

"Kisses?"

"And handjobs."

"Like the one that we're not trading right now."

"Like the one that is about to start, as an incentive for a week of strictly legal and ethical behavior from you."

"Wait, if it's an incentive for me, why do _you_ get to get off?"

"Three reasons," Peter murmured against Neal's lips, stroking down his flank, slippery under the hot water. "First, the Bureau does not, actually, pimp out its agents. Second, I don't put out like that."

Neal wrapped a hand around Peter's cock and stroked it. "And third?"

"Oh -- and third, you like being in control too much, you like performing, you wouldn't like this if it was a one-way transaction."

They were pushing into each other's hands now, crowding into each others' space, sliding slick skin, jostling for position, for better leverage. "Smart guy, very astu -- oh, yeah, like that, just like that," Neal said, giving up on banter. Neal felt his balls tightening, felt the orgasm nearing, but he fought it off. He thought about an entire week of honesty, and that backed it off a bit, enough that he could concentrate on Peter. But in the end, held between Peter's thumb swirling around the head of his cock and Peter's tongue in his mouth, Neal gave up, felt the orgasm swell through him, toss him like an ocean wave, and shiver him apart. Momentum kept him moving long enough to bring Peter with him, and then they were slowly settling to the floor. Peter reached out a hand and fumbled with the controls, switching the diverter from shower to tub and stoppering the drain.

They lay there for a while, letting the hot water rise around them and recovering.

"So I can count on you being good for a whole week?" Peter asked.

"If you want. But when I'm bad, I'm better," Neal said.

"I know. But I'll settle for you being very very good," Peter said, and kissed him again.

If Peter kept up that sort of behavior modification, Neal supposed he could be convinced.


End file.
